


the pull

by days4daisy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Extra Treat, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Referenced Past Medical Experimentation, Trick or Treat: Trick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-07-28 22:12:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16250819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/pseuds/days4daisy
Summary: Rocket's heart hammers in his chest. Thor is fine, he tells himself. Some weird god thing, that's all. Thor is fine, he’s totally fine.





	the pull

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lionessvalenti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/gifts).



> Happy Trick or Treat, lionessvalenti!

“Uh, Thor? Buddy, you ok?” Third time has to be a charm, right?

Nope, Thor doesn’t acknowledge Rocket in any way. He’s on the edge of a cot, fingers hooked on his knees. His attention is on the Quinjet's far wall, sharpness of his good eye a contrast to the dull fake Rocket gave him. Thor cocks his head like he’s listening to something, jaw clenched in a strict line. His mouth opens but no sound comes out.

Rocket doesn't like being ignored, especially by dudes five times his size. If Thor were anyone else, Rocket would be flying off the handle. But Thor doesn’t look right, and when Thor isn’t right Rocket’s guard shoots way up.

Rocket has issues, hovering over some 1500-year old god-man who can zap assholes with lightning.

Rocket climbs on the cot next to Thor. “Thunder, man, you hearing me or what?”

Tension flutters under Thor’s jaw. “I’m sorry,” he says.

Thor is still staring at the wall, and Rocket gets the sinking feeling the apology isn’t for him. Is something else here? Someone Rocket can’t see? The fur sticks up on the back of Rocket’s neck.

Sweat is forming on Thor’s brow. His lip shivers, and his good eye - there’s something wrong with it. It’s clouding over, shiny like a cruiser with a fresh paint job. Rocket remembers how Thor looked at him in the Milano’s pod, how hard the guy was fighting not to break down and cry.

Only, Rocket sees something else with the tears, and a chill crawls down his spine. Fear. Thor is _afraid_.

“Thor, hey.” Rocket shakes Thor’s shoulder with both hands. “You ok?"

Thor isn’t ok. He feels...cold.

Rocket's heart hammers in his chest. Thor is fine, he tells himself. Some weird god thing, that's all. Thor is fine, he’s totally fine.

A sharp sound makes Rocket jump. Thor’s good eye rolls back, and his body starts to go limp. “No - no, no, no!” Rocket grips Thor’s arm tight enough to draw blood. “Thor, come on, _come on._ ” He jostles Thor hard. It’s like they’re at sea, rocking back and forth. Thor’s chin sags to his chest. Beyond what Rocket is doing to him, he isn’t moving.

Anger blazes in Rocket’s belly. “Thor, you asshole!” he barks. Rocket’s head spins; he’s panicking, panting for breath. Damn it, Groot is gone, and who the hell knows where Rocket’s crew is? Thor isn’t allowed to be messed up!

Rocket scratches Thor’s arm and fists the front of his tunic. Thor’s head flops forward and back in sickening fashion. His fake eye rolls about like a loose marble

“Thor!” Rocket shouts, voice breaking. “This ain't funny, come on!” He feels fever-hot and frozen, shifting temperatures in a frenzy. This isn’t happening. It _can’t_ happen. Thor wouldn't leave him, everything is fine.

But what if it's not? What if Thor isn't ok? What if he's gone? What if Rocket is on his own? What if-

Thor stands abruptly, and Rocket crashes on the cot. He staggers like he’s on no-grav legs, a shaking hand swimming to his face.

Thor stumbles around a corner. Rocket hears him being sick in the refresher, retching and groaning. Water follows, and the thud of large boots.

Thor is pale when he emerges, a flush of illness staining his cheeks. He does not seem to notice the tears on his own face. “Forgive me, Rabbit,” Thor chokes. He scrubs a hand against his mouth, as if speaking will make him sick again.

The cot's thin padding jumps when Thor’s weight collapses on it. Tipping on his side, Thor squints at Rocket.

Furious tears mat Rocket’s fur to his face, and he bares sharp teeth in rage. Thor blinks slowly. “What?” It seems to be the only word Thor can muster.

Rocket should call Thor a bastard and stalk off to the cockpit. Take their jet off auto-nav and pilot manual control until his hands quit shaking and the unvoiced scream in his throat dies.

Rocket has already given Thor too much. There are only so many cards Rocket can show before he starts to go crazy.

But Rocket feels plastered in place, like he’s been drugged and can’t move. “What the hell was that?”

Thor flinches. He reaches for Rocket like, screw him, being sex-on-legs can fix everything. And why not? It's all they are to each other, right? Rocket thinks the god-man is hot, and the god-man has low standards and doesn’t say no to fooling around now and then.

Rocket knows exactly what their arrangement is. He still jabs an unsteady finger at Thor. “You don’t get to do that,” he hisses.

“Rabbit-”

“You don’t get to die on me.” Rocket is breathing too fast, the room is blurring over. “Or- or whatever the hell that was!”

_(Hey, Druis, look how shaky he gets when he’s stressed. Heh! Must be the neuron wires. Want to see something cool? Try screwing in this bolt tighter - yeah, on his back, right **here**.)_

“Rocket.” Thor is staring at him. “I didn’t-”

“No!” Rocket is too out of his head to remember if this is the first time Thor has used his real name. Hilarious, the engineered rodent hyperventilating for the god-man. Quill will get a kick out of this someday, if he's not dead or a pile of dust somewhere.

Rocket can’t calm down. He’s trembling, anger bursting from every atom of his bad science experiment body. “I ain’t losing no one else!” Rocket yells. “You hear me?”

Thor's hand hangs awkwardly between them like a broken down bridge. Weakly, Thor smiles. “You won’t be rid of me that easily-”

“Fuck you.” Rocket snarls and jumps off the cot. Fear and rage make his stomach roll. He wraps arms tightly around himself. This is what Rocket gets for trusting someone. This is what he gets for _feeling_.

“Please.”

Rocket knows he shouldn’t go back. He also knows he has no chance of resisting that damn voice, low and strained, pulling every one of his strings.

Scowling, Rocket climbs back onto the cot. He taps an impatient foot next to Thor’s hunched body, eyes narrow, still wet and angry.

“I’m not leaving you,” Thor says. Quiet as his words are, he sounds sure of himself. With a grimace, Thor offers his hand again. Persistent bastard.

Rocket sighs and sits in front of Thor on the cot. He doesn’t take the hand, though; it feels like a small victory.

Reluctantly, Thor withdraws it. “I should have told you,” he says. His voice is hoarse and uneven. “I thought from the Quinjet the pull would not be as strong.”

“The hell are you talking about?”

“I am the king of a dead race, Rabbit. I live, but my family, my friends, everyone who trusted me to protect them is…” Thor trails into a sigh. “But my failures are my own. I did not mean to disturb you.” Thor looks miserable and ill, but he still manages a smile.

Rocket knows what Thor wants, and he gives in like a sucker. He shifts close enough that Thor can set trembling fingers on his back. Warmth has returned to Thor’s skin, and he looks more like himself; more alive.

Only problem is, Rocket knows what Thor feels like with the life drained out of him now. Rocket will think about Thor's ice-cold corpse like he thinks about Groot turning to ash in his arms. Every night. All the time.

“You’re not allowed to go with ‘em,” Rocket growls. It’s selfish, sure, and it says too much about how Rocket feels. Rocket doesn’t care. “We got people to find. That's why we’re in this metal can combing the stars, remember?”

Thor offers Rocket a new smile. This one has more behind it, soft and real. “Lie with me,” he says.

Rocket barks a bitter laugh. “That won’t solve nothing.”

Thor drags long fingers down Rocket’s back. Rocket’s body thrums despite himself. “I want to feel you,” Thor says quietly, “if that’s alright.” He sounds uncertain, mouth tugging downward. “You… I feel grounded with you. But I understand if you do not feel the same.”

If Rocket was in a laughing mood, he would be on the floor.

Rocket lies next to Thor’s face, and Thor tucks himself against Rocket’s belly. His unsteady hand kneads Rocket’s back. “Thank you,” Thor’s voice is thick, “sweet Rabbit.”

Rocket can’t even muster a quipped ‘shut up.’ He huffs and combs a hand through Thor’s hair. Taking deep breaths, Rocket wills his heartbeat back to normal.

“I got you, and you got me, I guess,” Rocket manages. Thor doesn’t laugh, but Rocket feels his nod. His nose rubs Rocket’s stomach, and his exhale shudders through Rocket’s clothes.

Rocket glares over Thor's head at the far wall, a warning to any ghost who may try to pry them apart. He knows he's screwed, but whatever. Rocket’s mind is made up. From now on, they’re a package deal, him and Thor. Til death and all that.

Shouldn’t take too long, the way things are headed.

* The End *


End file.
